I still see her you know? I’ll admit, it’s not often that our paths intersect, but more often than not she invades my dreams. I see her eyes, I catch the scent of her long flowing hair, I feel her soft skin on the small of her back and I can taste her sweat as my lips press firmly against the nape of her neck. I suppose if I were being honest; I would have to say that I have never really finalized my partition from her. She frequently haunts my dreams. She floats in and out of my whimsical night life as if she were some auspicious form of specter, willingly trapped somewhere between this world and the next. She chooses to stay there to keep me company, and to protect me. While she lay next to me at night I couldn’t feel more at peace, but I have never felt more apprehensive than the rare occasions that she is standing before me as she had so many times before, but now untouchable. Upon these infrequent meetings I vigorously wish to withdraw, but in the same breath pray that this exceptional moment of fortune would never come to an end. Upon her entry I seem to cower to the nearest corner of the deepest hall in my mind. I pretend as if I can not see her, and if she catches me capturing yet another ethereal photograph of her perfect visage, which she usually does, I quickly turn away. Now that we have caught eyes she begins to take her short walk towards me. I point out that the walk is short because, though the distance is minute, the time and thoughts that seem to pass are greater in number than seem to be present in an entire month. As she approaches I can smell that all too familiar sweet smell that envelops my dreams. If I had to put a name to that sent I would simply entitle it security. It’s amazing how much something as simple as a smell can control ones recollections and sentiment. She always seems very confident as she approaches. I try to play as if my stance is firm and my breathing is steady, but I’m sure she knows I’m short of breath and my legs are weak. I do my best to find something solid to lean against. Under any normal circumstances I am very sure of myself, but as soon as she begins to inch her way towards me I can’t seem to think of a single positive thing about myself. All that crosses my mind is the substantial amount of failure that I have accrued in my life. At this very moment I realize why we went our separate ways. She and I are nothing alike. Though we were for a diminutive time the completion of one another; hold on, I am wrong. We grew apart because we forced our lives apart with childish naivety and cowardice. We were great! I mean, we had to be. Right? There is no way that I could still be yearning for someone whom did not precisely complete my existence. This being the case, love her I must! Sadly, I do not know her the way I once did. Who is she now? There has been no indication that she is anything other than the ideal companion, and even more imperative, the one made for me. I wish that I were allotted more than these few fleeting moments to find out. I fear that if I never know who she has become I will never be able to break the hold that she inadvertently has on me. However, I fear that even worse may come of my situation if I do find out. If she is who I remember her to be, if she is the women I love, I believe it could bring me to the end of all sanity. It is imperative that I go on telling myself that she is happy now and there is nothing that I have to offer to her that would be better than what she has. Her life is fulfilling and her relationship is where she belongs. There is no room for me.